


A Vision in the Dark

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Background Het, Background Poly, Blindfolds, Bondage, Challenge Response, Claustrophilia, Dominance, Fear, Gags, Hand Jobs, Hurt Neal, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Nipple Play, OT3, Restraints, Sensory Deprivation, Submission, Touching, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal has his own way of dealing with trauma. Of recent times, Peter's found unconventional means in order to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vision in the Dark

**Title:** A Vision in the Dark  
 **Pairing:** Peter/Neal, background OT3  
 **Rating:** nc17  
 **Warnings:** kink, claustrophilia, sensory deprivation, handjob, d/s themes, mention of anal and threesomes etc.  
 **Word count:** 2.1k  
 **Summary:** Neal has his own way of dealing with trauma. Of recent times, Peter's found unconventional means in order to help him out.  
 **A/N:** Written for [](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/profile)[**run_the_con**](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/) for [](http://china-shop.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://china-shop.livejournal.com/)**china_shop** s prompt 'sweetness and dark'. This isn't super explicit, and it's probably more angsty than porny, but it is kink-heavy, so take heed.  
In under the wire! And let's not tell anyone that I posted this at work...

Neal's had a bad day.

Things had started off so well, too. He and Diana had been undercover, working to entice some Spanish mobsters into selling fraudulent gems. Their plan had gone down smooth as silk, like a well-aged whisky, that was until Pablo had pulled his gun out.

Neal _really_ didn't like guns. Especially when they were aimed at his head.

Some quick thinking – and even quicker talking – had bought them enough time for Peter to move their team in and take the Spaniards down, but for Neal the damage had already been done. He'd plastered on his usual dazzling smile for the EMTs and the rest of the White Collar crew, but then he'd high-tailed it out of there as fast as he'd been able to without raising suspicions. Peter had stopped him briefly with a knowing look, but in the end he'd still let Neal walk himself home from the scene without much of a fuss. If ever there was anyone who could read him…

He'd taken the long way home, skirting the edges of his radius closely enough that he'd prompted the warning alarm to go off several times. He hadn't made it back to June's until after sundown, letting himself into the empty house but not bothering to turn on any of the lights as he lumbered up the stairs. The moment he'd stepped through his door, however, he'd frozen dead in his tracks, sensing the presence of a second party already in the apartment. The city lights filtering in through the windows had cast just enough illumination for Neal to see the man's outline as he'd risen from the couch to stand himself by the kitchen bench. Neal hadn't dared breathe as he'd waited, until suddenly several items were purposely dropped to the floorboards with a clatter.

He'd registered immediately what the items were and the building anxieties that had been plaguing him all afternoon had come crashing down around him all at once. Neal had thrown himself at the shadowed man's feet with abandon, clinging for dear life at the leg of the man's trousers. The single thread he'd been hanging by strengthened itself.

"Peter…"

"Shh."

Things between them had been rocky lately, what with Neal's father and Peter's (albeit short) stint in jail. They hadn't been properly _alone_ together for months, more so since El had insisted that their stolen kisses in the Bureau's bathrooms didn't count. But clearly Peter had forgotten nothing and his adeptness at reading Neal's needs, as opposed to his wants, had not waned one single iota.

Which is how he ends up in one of the lower cupboards in his dressing room, his body contorted, limbs pressed tight together to make him fit in the small space. After he'd fallen to his knees in the kitchen, Peter had all but carried him out the back to his walk-in wardrobe, had blindfolded and gagged him, had strapped his arms to his chest and slotted him into the compartment which had once housed a rack he'd kept his dress shoes on.

Squeezing his eyes shut beneath the blindfold Neal sucks in a deep breath through his nose, feeling the pinch as his ribcage presses back against the walls of the cupboard and pulls taut on the straps wound around his torso. There's nowhere for him to move, and the single open wall of the 'cube' he's in has a sliding door half pulled across it and Peter is sitting directly on the other side – he's so close Neal can feel the other man's breath blowing across the fine hairs on his knee.

Finally he can relax.

"That's it," Peter says, encouraging him toward that _place_ he needs to go, "Just let it go. They can't hurt you here."

Neal thinks back to the time when Peter had first found him like this, squished into the smallest space he could find. It had been after a similar incident when a bust had gone awry and he'd ended up with a gun in his face. Yet again Peter had saved him from imminent death, but the shock of it all had remained as intense in the aftermath as it had in that single moment.

He'd vanished from the scene too quickly that time, prompting everyone to wonder where he'd gotten to. He remembered hearing Peter's footsteps as he'd searched the apartment, though once he'd reached the back room the shoe rack Neal had pulled from the cupboard and left lying haphazard on the floor had been a dead giveaway. When Peter slid the door back, Neal had waited - shaking with terror - for a reprimand that had never come. Peter had asked him just the once to get out of the cupboard, but when he’d refused the other man had simply sat himself down with a sigh and waited for Neal to be ready.

Since things had become more intimate between them, Neal’s ‘safe place’ had morphed into something else entirely. Neal doesn’t regret it, but he does worry a little about how he’ll deal if one day Peter isn’t there to help him through it.

“Don’t get lost now,” Peter chides, smoothing a hand down the side of his thigh and over his hip, “Come back to me, Neal.”

Neal grunts from behind the gag to let Peter know he’s there in the present, and Peter praises him, clapping his hand on Neal’s waist. The hand doesn’t pull away this time, though, instead it continues to run over the surface of his skin, catching on the straps stretched across his chest and causing Neal to break out in goosebumps. Peter’s shoulder nudges open the cupboard door a little further and puts his other hand on Neal’s body, and it’s as if he’s touching Neal everywhere all at once, such is the intensity of the contact while the rest of him is packed into such a small space.

His head is twisted and the side of his face is tucked into the gap between his knees, and Neal whimpers against his own leg, the first stirrings of pleasure awakening at the juncture of his legs. Peter seems to realise what’s going on and he zeroes in on Neal’s nipple, flicking and pulling and twisting it until it’s dark pink and throbbing. He focuses only on the right side since the left is too hard to reach, but Neal almost feels as if it’s more erotic that way, that Peter is only ‘attacking’ him wherever he’s exposed and that he can’t get away no matter which way he tries to turn.

“You like that?” Peter teases, nibbling at Neal’s fingertips where they’re strapped down over his collarbone. His hand abandons the well-abused nipple and slithers down into the tight space between Neal’s legs, grasping blindly at the hardening flesh of his cock. “Yeah, y’ do.” He wraps his palm around it and give it a squeeze, causing Neal to jerk in his confines and knock the back of his head against the top of the compartment.

Neal’s breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, and he can feel the flutter of fabric against his chin - likely Peter’s shirt sleeve from where the older man is bent in close to get his hands on Neal’s groin. He can’t be sure though, since Neal’s in the dark in more ways than one, but he thinks he can sense Peter’s radiating body heat all the way along the right side of his leg and arm. It’s like an electric charge, the feel of having Peter so near and yet frustratingly far away. With sight and touch and speech all stolen away from him like this, everything else seems heightened and almost unreal, to the point where Neal isn’t totally sure where he is anymore - he’s drifting in a dark place of overwhelming sensation and desperate need, and all Peter’s done is tug on a nipple and stroke his dick a few times.

“Stay with me, Neal,” Peter says, his voice soft but still commanding, “Just focus on my voice, concentrate on my hand, my fingers...”

He makes his best attempt at a nod and does as Peter says, thinking only of his voice and the touch of large, familiar hands on his body, and gradually he’s able to release some of the tension in his shoulders, giving himself over to the pleasure.

“That’s good, Neal, so good.”

Peter pats him and presses a kiss to his shoulder before stroking his cock again, then dipping two fingers down behind his balls to circle around his entrance. It’s a tight fit and Peter’s elbow is jabbing into his leg, but his body doesn’t care, the muscles of his ass reflexively clenching down at the tease of something more.

“So needy right now. You’re practically vibrating with it.”

He knows he is, he can’t help it. Neal whines in a plea for Peter’s mercy - he’s so hard that it _hurts_.

“You need to come, don’t you? I’d say so. I can feel how hard you are, straining in my hand.” Peter rubs his thumb through the fluid pearling at the tip of his cock. “Imagine if El could see you now. I bet she’d love it. Bet she’d have her hand in her panties, getting off to the sight of you like this.”

Neal’s breathing stutters and stops for a moment. He knows Peter has explained to El what goes on when he freaks out like he did today, but for all the intimacy they’ve shared together, El’s never shared in this side of Neal before. He and Peter have talked about it, but he hasn’t yet given the green light. He’s scared of giving too much away somehow, though he doesn’t know how that’s possible. Neal and El are always handsy with each other, he’ll eat her out at a moment’s notice, and she likes to masturbate while she watches Peter fuck him - it’s not like they haven’t seen everything there is to see.

And yet, that’s not completely true.

“Hey, shh,” Peter placates him with more kisses and gentle caressing, “She’s not here, but I know she’d like to be. She loves watching your face when I take you from behind. And you should’ve seen how fast she came when I told her about the last time I tied you up - she screamed so loud, Neal.”

Neal’s knees bang against the wall of the cupboard as he shudders, his hips pushing his cock further into Peter’s hand. His attempt at thrusting fails in such a tight space, but Peter doesn't leave him hanging this time, closing his hand firmly around Neal’s length and pulling as fast as he can from the awkward angle he's positioned in, his elbow still jabbing into Neal’s thigh with each stroke.

Letting go a high-pitched whimper, Neal feels his orgasm rocket through his entire body, his muscles pulling taut and straining against his confines as he finally finds release, warm wet drops now easing the slide of Peter’s hand over his cock. His limbs go limp and he would have collapsed had he not been curled up as he is, breathing in humid air from between his knees. The smell of sweat and spunk is almost nauseating, but he can barely move let alone indicate to Peter to remove his gag.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Peter’s hand finally withdraws and he tugs Neal into his arms, not pulling him out of the cupboard but angling him enough that he's resting against the older man’s chest. Fingers card through the damp strands of his hair and Neal turns his face into Peter’s body, exhausted. He is being rocked back and forth just lightly, so it takes him a moment to realise that Peter’s own erection is pressing into his side, and he wriggles against it, rubbing his hip against the length hidden by Peter’s trousers.

Peter jumps and squeezes his embrace more tightly around Neal, preventing him from moving.

“I can wait, y’know?” He whispers, nuzzling behind Neal’s ear, “It was enough just to watch that all happen. _Feel_ it, even. I’ve never known anything like it before you came along, but I’ve said before that you’re full of surprises.”

Neal exhales a deep breath through his nose, nudging Peter with his head to let him know he's heard and that Neal is happy - recovered from the afternoon’s scare. A long moment passes before Peter moves to unclip the gag and Neal rolls his jaw to try and loosen the stiff muscles.

“Want me to--?”

“Not yet,” Neal cuts in, his voice hoarse from disuse, “Just a little longer.”

He feels Peter’s nod, and settles against him, enjoying the sharpened sensations that only the blindness and bondage can give him. Neal feels strangely renewed and clear-headed, and can't wait to ask Elizabeth to be a part of things next time he needs a specific kind of touch.


End file.
